He Didn’t Look for Me Until I Was Dead (by Durrin) novel Chapter 6

My voice drifted through the room, but Calvin couldn’t hear it.

He looked intently at Georgia, his tone gentle. “No matter what, it’s only right that I look after

you.”

A flicker of panic crossed Georgia’s eyes, and she quickly changed the subject.

“Cal, I just remembered… I didn’t see Whitney at the party that day. Where was she?”

Calvin’s expression turned cold. “She’s an adult. I don’t have to keep tabs on her every move.”

His indifference cut deep.

Keep tabs on me? We’d been married three years. Had he ever once kept tabs on me?

Just then, the door swung open.

I turned instinctively and saw Stefanie’s furious face.

“Calvin, Whitty is missing. I can’t believe you’re sitting here comforting Georgia!

“And that time you were badly injured–it was Whitty who took care of you, day and night, without rest! Georgia’s taking credit for everything!”

Stefanie trembled with anger.

“Whitty copied all those study notes Georgia ‘gave‘ you back in high school. She stayed up countless nights doing it.

“And the knee pads and wrist guards you used during training in college? Whitty picked every single one.

“Ask yourself, Calvin. All these years, has Whitty ever let you down?

“How could you do this to her?”

Watching Stefanie defend me so desperately, I felt a rush of warmth.

The day she learned I was autistic, she’d said, “Don’t be afraid, Whitty. From now on, I’ve got you.”

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Chapter 6

All these years, she’d kept that promise–just like now.

Calvin’s icy eyes held only doubt. “What are you talking about?

“If any of that were true, why didn’t Whitney ever tell me?”

His gaze them.”

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darkened. “She knew if she’d given me those things herself, I never would’ve accepted

Stefanie choked on his words, her face flushed with anger.

He continued, “And you claim she’s missing? Give me a break, Stefanie. Aren’t you tired of playing along with her little games?

“If something really happened to her, how could she have answered my call?”

He stood and walked toward her, his voice cold. “Get out. Gia needs to rest.”

Stefanie glared at him, spitting out coldly, “Calvin, you’re going to regret this sooner or later.”

She turned to leave, and I followed.

Once out of the room, she stopped.

All her earlier fierceness was gone. Her shoulders slumped, and she wiped her eyes.

“I’m glad Whitty wasn’t there. That jerk would’ve made her cry again…‘

A wave of bitterness washed over me.

་་

I raised my hand to pat her shoulder like I always had, but my fingers passed right through her.

I could only watch her walk away while I stayed trapped in place.

I floated there dejectedly, only turning back toward the room after she disappeared from sight.

As I entered, I heard Georgia’s voice.

“Cal, are you sure you aren’t going to talk to Whitney about the gathering?”

Calvin’s expression was dark. “She has autism. She can’t even hold a conversation properly. I doubt she’d handle that occasion well.”

I smiled bitterly.

Yes, I was autistic, but not to the extent Calvin made it sound.

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Chapter 6

After we married, I’d learned from him that children whose parents were killed often ended the state foster system.

So, every National Police Week, I signed up to volunteer at a group home.

Georgia came over during our first year of marriage.

She pulled me into the kitchen while Calvin was in the living room.

“Whitney, I know you’re going to the group home tomorrow. Why don’t you stay there for a couple of days? Otherwise, people might think the captain’s wife is just there for the photo op.”

Glancing at Calvin’s frown over his case files, I agreed without hesitation.

I’d do anything to make things easier for him.

So, when he later asked if I was free during National Police Week, I instinctively said no.

Looking back now, it was just another one of Georgia’s tricks.

And from then on, Calvin never mentioned the gathering again.

I looked at him, frustrated.

How many misunderstandings had piled up between us?

In the early morning hours, after Georgia fell asleep, Calvin finally left.

The next day, as he entered the station, he nearly bumped into a girl around eighteen.

“Captain McMullen!”

Seeing her bright, smiling face, I was stunned. “Lottie?”

Calvin studied her for a few seconds and remembered–she’d lost her parents in a homicide case.

His expression softened. “Lottie, what brings you here?”

Charlotte Mitchell handed him an acceptance letter. “Captain McMullen, I got into Stanford University! I came to thank you.”

Calvin looked stunned. “Thank me?”

She seemed surprised, too.

“You didn’t know? Whitty’s been sponsoring the group home in both your names for the past three

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Chapter 6

years.

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“And every National Police Week, she joins the volunteer team to spend time with us. She never

misses it.”

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